The first time I visited Saturnia I didn’t even go and look at the thermal springs. My reluctance was a combination of a flying visit, overcast skies, an overcast state of mind and the impression I was being asked to visit a muggy stream. The muggy, foul-smelling steam flanked with giant cane that ran across the ploughed fields and under the road we had just argued our way down. I spent the afternoon at the agriturismo reading, feeling overcast but stubbornly righteous as the rest of the group disappeared into the mist armed with costumes and towels.

Three years later and I now know what other (wiser, less stubborn) people have known for thousands of years; there is stream, only it isn’t muggy. It is a fast, foaming torrent of warm water, appearing milky-blue against the calcium-coated rock, its sulphurous vapours entirely forgivable. It is a source that erupts from deep within the volcanic earth – at which point a clever man built a spa – beforesurging across a field and then bursting into an almost unreal cascade by an old mill. A cascade reminiscent of a champagne fountain, the smooth, shallow travertine pools like a cluster of old-fashioned saucer glasses, the foaming water flowing like formula 1 spumante. It is a startling place of natural beauty.

Our Hotel was just meters from the cascade. Consequently – come rain or more rain or shine – we spent much of our time in the water, arms wide on the curved lip of our chosen pool, water pummeling our necks, cleansing, exfoliating, softening, circulation stirring while we watched the most fantastically eclectic, occasionally bonkers, crowd do exactly the same thing. For the rest, we explored a part of Maremma.

Maremma is a large territory that saddles lower Tuscany and higher Lazio. It is a variegated place; vast flat plains fit for cowboys (Butteri), bleak cities, coniferous and metalliferous hills, exquisite hill-top towns, swampy natural park and coastal retreats: some craggy, others sandy. We were in Fiora Valley, five minutes from Saturnia, a rich, deep-green land of dense forest, undulating hills covered with vines, olive groves, oaks and chestnuts, of medieval hill-top towns their fortified walls rising like stone crowns.

I read so obsessively about the food before the holiday I was almost weary of it by the time we arrived (a sharp editing lesson that too much suggestion of delicious, hearty, rustic, humble and bumble can leave people cool). I was jolted out my weariness short sharp.

Most of the places at which we ate were in small towns in the midst of groves and vines, meaning the oil and wine was produced just meters away. Sulphurous soil and thermal springs reap full-flavoured things, and so our meals were rich with excellent local produce; game, cured meat, sheep’s cheese, wild herbs, pulses, recently bottled fruit and vegetables. You can quite literally taste the land. Local salame with unsalted bread and pecorino with local honey, crostini topped olive paste, rosemary scented lardo and herb pesto, hand rolled pici pasta with garlic and tomato sauce, ravioli filled with ricotta and wild herbs, pappardelle with wild boar, white beans cooked in a flask and then dressed with olive oil, slow cooked meat with olives and fast seared steaks, grilled porcini mushrooms and of course acquacotta.

Literally translated acquacotta means cooked water, it is – broadly speaking – a simple vegetable soup, served over day old bread and topped with an egg. Over 6 days we ate eight bowls of acquacotta, in six different places, each one different, each one good. Everyone I asked about the recipe said bread and water are fundamental, that onion and celery are important, but then it depends what you have; tomatoes, carrot, spinach, chard, herbs. The three best acquacotta were acutely different, one deep-red and tomato heavy, another brothy with spinach and wild mint, the third (my favourite) a dense stew of celery and onion with just a little tomato.

These days my holiday souvenirs are usually an injury, something to eat and a recipe. This holiday was no exception. I came home to Rome with a nasty scratch and three large bruises (my fault, do not enter the cascade after drinking more than your fair share of a bottle of Bianco di Pitigliano) a loaf of tuscan bread and this recipe for acquacotta.

Acquacotta, is to my mind, a particularly satisfying and complete dish. Made well, it is pure tasting and savory (that will be the onion and celery) given warmth and rosy cheeks by tomato, body by celery leaves and something wild by the herbs if you choose to add them. The bread at the bottom ensures it is a dish with its feet firmly on the ground and the egg, well what doesn’t taste better with an egg on top?

As much as I liked the addition of chard and mint in the acquacotta at Il Tufo Allegro in Pitigliano, I have stayed true to Graziella’s recipe which was the closest to my favourite bowlful. You chop and then saute a weepingly large quality of red, white and yellow onion and lots of celery (the tender stems and their soft pale leaves) in plenty – this is no time for parsimony – of extra virgin olive oil. Once the onion and celery are soft you add some chopped tomatoes, salt and pepper, possibly a little chilli and let everything cook a few minutes longer. Then you add boiling water a ladelful at a time, so the pan never stops bubbling, until the vegetables are covered by a few inches of water. You leave the pan to bubble away for 40 minutes.

While the acquacotta is bubbling you prepare the bowls by pitting a slice of day old lightly toasted bread at the bottom of each, sprinkling it with a little grated pecorino or parmesan if you like. Once the acquacotta is ready you divide it between the four bowls – covering the bread with vegetables and some broth so it can inzuppare – but leave an inch of the broth in the pan. Into this remaining broth you break four eggs, cover the pan and then let the eggs poach gently over a low flame for 3 minutes. You use a slotted spoon to lift the eggs on top of the acquacotta in each of the four bowls. You eat.

Acquacotta or L’acqua cotta

Everyone I asked, including Graziella, was reluctant to give very specific quantities, preferring instead q.b or quantobasta, or how much is enough. After all they assured me acquacotta is good enough to merit experimentation – amount of water, choice of vegetables, herbs ‘Yes or absolutely not‘, to toast or not to toast the bread and other points of contention – and adjusting according to season, place and taste. However based on the few measurements I was given and the two panfuls I have made at home, I have noted my measurements.

four slices of day old bread (ideally Tuscan bread, otherwise sourdough or a good quality compact country bread)

pecorino or parmesan cheese

4 eggs

Bring a pan of water to the boil as you will need it shortly.

Peel and very thinly slice the onions. Chop the celery into thin arcs (cut any particularly wide stems in two lengthways). Warm the olive oil in large heavy-based pan and add the onion and celery. Saute the vegetables over low heat until soft and translucent. Add the chopped tomatoes, a good pinch of salt, a grind of pepper and the chilli if you are using it and cook for another few minutes.

Add the boiling water a ladleful at a time, so the vegetables never stop bubbling. Once the vegetables are covered by 3 inches of water, lower the flame and leave the acquacotta to simmer for 40 minutes. Taste and adjust for salt and pepper.

Prepare the bowls by putting a slice of toasted day-old bread at the bottom of each and sprinkling it with a little cheese.

Once the acquacotta is ready, divide it between the four bowls – covering the bread with vegetables and some broth so it can inzuppare – but leave an inch of the broth in the pan.

Break four eggs into the remaining broth, cover the pan and then let the eggs poach gently over a low flame for 3 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to lift the eggs on top of the acquacotta in each of the four bowls. Eat and imagine you are in Pitigliano.

I am always wary of recommending places as other people do it so much better than me and things change and we all have different ideas and well, um, what if you were to go to a place I’d recommended and it turned out to be.….. However on this occasion I would like to mention:

Il Tufo Allegro in Pitigliano. We ate here twice, both meals were superb in every respect. The surroundings are stylish but warm in an ancient, warren-like building in the Jewish quarter of staggeringly beautiful Pitigliano (pictured above). Notably: aquacotta with spinach, mint and quail’s eggs, pici all’agliata (thick spaghetti-like-pasta with tomato and garlic sauce), grilled porcini, cinghiale with fennel, tagliata di manzo and a gorgeous pudding of creamed ricotta, grilled, caramelized pear and warm chocolate sauce that almost made me sing (I had drunk rather a lot of wine). Expensive but offers a good value set lunch. Slick service. We drank wines from Sassotondo.

We stayed at La Fonte del Cerro. A beautifully situated, extremely well and thoughtfully tended family-run hotel with an almost private entrance to the Cascades (pictured below). Almost everyone we met was returning. We will too.

38 responses to “water everywhere”

I love acquacotta, and kind of forgot about it. I used to eat it all the time when we were in the Maremma, but it’s not fallen off my list. Thanks for reminding me! But I always just cracked the egg directly into the individual pots of soup, then popped them briefly in the oven. No fussy poaching, which always seems so challenging.

Thank you Rachel – your post arrives on a beautiful cold morning – glorious sunshine in London today, can’t wait to make acquacotta tonight, therapeutic chopping and wonderful smell – what more can I ask for?

‘coniferous and metalliferous hills’ – thank you for that. And the ‘weepingly large quantity of onion’ – your sentences have such drama in them. Thank you also for this recipe. Simple and sustaining. Sophie

Have heard about the metal spoon trick. Apparently you must insert into mouth before the onions make their appearance and not halfway through otherwise it doesn’t work…I’m well thank you. Enjoying a wild English autumn, sea and rain and sun and all sorts. Nice to have such variety after LA. Sophie x

Wonderful, an essential dish. I’ve never found a good enough replacement for Tuscan bread when recreating these bready soups outside of Tuscany, though. I have a soft spot for la Maremma, I just find it so down to earth. I’ve never actually been to Saturnia, we always go to Venturina (no smelly water there, but a lovely, warm, crystal clear pool…), but I think your post has convinced me we’ll have to make a trip there next time. x

Venturina next. Oh and next time you are back in Florence we are going to come and meet you and then take the little one to some warm water as Luca just loved it. Then of course we will all go and eat Rx

Wow, Rachel, Thank you for a wonderful tour! I love you descriptions of your jaunts almost as much as I love your recipes. Can’t wait to try this one. Your pepperonata has become a staple in our house as has your name!

What an extraordinary place to stay, all that water, It must be glorious to sleep there, so invigorating.. Love this soup, I need to set to work and make some bread so i can wait until it gets stale! c

Mmm. I didn’t know this dish, but I soon will. I think that Tuscan bread could be readily replaced by light Polish rye bread, for those who live within reach of a Polish shop. I find it works well with these kinds of recipes

sigh. Sitting on my couch in Connecticut after a day of work, stiff neck and an appetite. Beam me up there immediately please. Guess I’ll just have to try your recipe to get a smidgen of taste. Thanks for that and the vicarious pleasure.

it’s always such a pleasure to read your blog, and as usual you made me salivate with this one. i may have to whip this up tonight!
also, i will be travelling to rome next week and have been taking meticulous notes from your posts in an attempt to see (read: EAT) only the best!

I was so captivated by this post that I actually dreamed last night that I was staying in the hotel by the cascades. Sadly I behaved quite appallingly…Perhaps I can redeem myself by making an exemplary aquacotta – perfect for this utterly wet autumn Sunday.

What an incredible getaway–great food and hot springs. Man oh man. Throw in a bike ride and I’ll start packing. We love aquacotta. I’ve pinned your version so I can try it. Jody does it with a slice of polenta topped with Taleggio cheese. Porcini infused broth over that, then a barely cooked soft-boiled egg–you break the yolk and it bleeds out into the broth. Tough to imagine it as Maremma cowboy fare, but still killer. ANFSCD: Haven’t all of us had our moments of sulking in agriturismo rooms, convinced we were right? :-) Ken

I love how you make even the simplest dishes that I have had many times travelling through Italy sound so new, exciting and utterly appealing (not that simple is not appealing to me in general, quite the contrary!). Every time I read one of your posts I want to kick myself for not having made that recipe in my own kitchen before… everything sounds so exotic seen through your eyes.